


chemical reactions

by goodmorninglou



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Explicit Sexual Content, Harringrove, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Redeemed Billy Hargrove, beautiful steve harrington, billy and steve are besties, billy is extremely haunted but we love him, in all lowercase bc it felt like that sorta story, max and billy sibling bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22839124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorninglou/pseuds/goodmorninglou
Summary: five times billy wasn’t in love with steve and one time he was
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 54
Kudos: 233





	1. indiana state university

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> steve gets into college, billy refuses love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i sorta leave out billy’s redemption in this but we’ll get more into it later just not a lot  
> tee hee  
> ummmm enjoy??  
> <333

i.

it’s not that billy is in love with steve harrington. love is just a chemical reaction that evolved to encourage animals to mate and continue the bloodline. it’s mother nature’s scam. and billy doesn’t submit to the whims of any being that isn’t himself. screw mother nature. billy isn’t in love with steve harrington.

he caught steve around the waist and spun him around in the foyer of the harrington mansion, until steve was scratching at his arms and both of their faces were scarlet with laughter.

“billy! put me down!” steve yells giddily, throwing his head back. he puts his everything into his laughter; mouth open, eyes shut, face tilted to the sky. no fear.

steve just got into college. indiana state university. fucking college.

steve finally wiggles out of billy’s arms and lands his socked feet on the wood floor, flattening his hands on billy’s chest. his dark eyes glitter.  _ pretty boy._

he isn’t in love with steve harrington, but if he believed in love being more than a evolutionary trap, he would be.

“college, harrington.” billy grins at him. he doesn’t grin for anyone else. “are you gonna buy me one of those college jumpers with a blue sycamore leaf on it?”

steve nods giddily. “mmhmm. i’m gonna get you one and let you wear it for three weeks, and then i’m gonna steal it back and wear it when i miss you extra.”

billy snorts. “or you could just call me like everyone else does when they miss someone and let me rep my best friends college.” he offers.

“shit, no.” steve makes a face. “where’s the fun in that?”

billy laughed, spun steve out of his arms, and started for the kitchen.

they spent a lot of joint time in the harrington’s kitchen. steve said it felt homey in there, more familial and neutral. a place where you could laugh and be loud and dance and cook, and cry and argue and scream and break down. versatile. billy was just used to kitchens. he cooked dinners at home; not for susan, not for fucking neil, for max. his sister, who had cried over him while he lay an inch from death in starcourt, who had stayed by his side through a grueling four months in the hospital, who had forgiven him and his numerous apologies and broken ways and made him something like whole again. he cooked for max. he wasn’t bad at it, either; especially compared to harrington, who had cooked his high school report cards and nothing else.

steve heaves himself onto the counter as billy leans against the side of the fridge. their gazes lock. “indiana state is one hour and thirty-four minutes away, you know.” steve murmurs.

billy shrugged. “‘s only ninety-four minutes. i’ll rev up my baby, blast the music that you never let me listen to when we’re together, it’ll breeze by.” in actuality, the idea of taking his favorite—material—thing onto the i-70 west scares the bejesus out of him. drivers are reckless on the highway, and if there’s so much as a spot in the paint of his camaro, he will flip tables. but it’s steve.

and the words grant him a wide, pearly smile, the kind that forms wrinkles around steve’s eyes that billy sort of wants to touch, sometimes. so. worth it.

steve grabs an orange and begins to tear into it, humming to himself. “do you think i should room in the dorms or get an apartment?”

“depends.” billy caught the orange slice steve threw to him. “can you afford an apartment?”

a snort. “i just got into  _ college, _hargrove, i’m pretty sure my parents would buy me a street full of mansions if it got me away from hawkins.”

billy just chuckled and let out a fond murmur of: “spoiled.”

“i think that i’d rather be in an apartment, you know, because then when you visit i wouldn’t have to worry about a weird roommate falling in love with you.” he shrugged, talking around fruit, dark hair falling in front of his eyes.

billy cocked a brow. “what if your roommate is a guy?”

“guys fall in love with you all the time.” steve said flippantly, tossing that stubborn hair back. billy gaped at him. “don’t give me that look, hargrove, i’m pretty sure tommy h. was one word away from getting on his knees for you in high school.”

_ love isn’t real, _billy wants to say. he wants to explain why everything is the way that it is. he can’t. “as if i’d let  _ tommy h. _ suck me off.”

“i don’t know,” steve sing-songs teasingly. “he must have a pretty talented mouth for someone who talks so much.”

billy barked a laugh; he didn’t seem to surprise steve, but he surprised himself. he wasn’t used to laughing, really. it felt strange.

“if you’re insinuating that tommy gives good blow jobs, i’m gonna need you to leave.” he said between chuckles.

“it’s my house!”

“my statement stands.”

steve threw the discarded orange peel at him, tossing his head back to laugh, diaphanous and angelic in the lazy sun that slanted through the kitchen.

billy wasn’t in love with steve harrington, but if things were different, he might’ve been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yayyyyyyy  
> turtles smell out of their butts  
> love you!!  
> <333


	2. watch me drive away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> steve leaves for college

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiya!! thank you for the lovely comments on this, i’m so glad you’re enjoying!!  
> <333

ii.

“you’re in love with steve.”

max looked so unbelievably bored as she said it. like it couldn’t be more fucking obvious.

“what?” billy stared at her. “no i’m not.”

“yes you are. that’s why you’re so sad right now.” she deadpanned.

they were packing steve’s car. he left today. for college. the place that’s five thousand, six hundred and forty seconds away. billy had been okay with it when steve first told him; he was still okay with it, now. but he could feel the absence. like a growing hole in his stomach and his chest, expanding and darkening with each heartbeat. his body missed steve and he hadn’t even left yet. he was talking to dustin on the porch as billy stacked the last of the boxes in the beemer’s passenger seat. saying goodbyes, probably.

“max is right.” el said in that determined tone of hers, licking ice cream off her knuckle while her other hand held the cone.

billy rolled his eyes. el might’ve been his favorite child ever—sans max, because that was different—but hell if her spooky mind powers didn’t utterly  expose him at every turn. even though he wasn’t in love with steve, because he wasn’t. he just didn’t need anyone overhearing  _ that. _

“right about what?” the wheeler kid yapped, high voice drilling into billy’s head.

“billy and steve.” will piped up. another one billy had formed a highly unlikely and extremely important friendship with. being possessed by the same inter-dimensional tentacle demon did that to people, apparently.

lucas glanced over from where he was sitting on the sidewalk. “what about billy and steve?”

“oh my god, shut up, all of you.” billy laughed nervously, glancing around too quickly.

“do you see?” el gestured with her cone. “you go together.”

“who goes together?”

the thing about steve harrington is that he might be the loudest person billy has ever met in his entire life, but the boy has quiet feet. he sneaks up on people regularly, and often scares the living shit out of them. billy especially.

steve slings an arm around his shoulder, warm and thin, and billy blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “you and robin!”

steve stares at him.

_ everyone _ stares at him.

“you know. as best friends.” he amends quickly, feeling embarrassed heat curl in his chest. he refuses to let it bleed into his cheeks. fucking refuses.

steve seems to let it slide, for now, with a roll of his eyes and a laugh. “you’re my best friend, hargrove.”

the kids give him an extremely pointed look that billy very studiously ignores. instead he just fondly murmurs, “sappy,” close to steve’s ear and escapes from his grasp to shut the beemer’s door.

the energy is different when he turns around. dustin looks as though he’s holding back tears. el is gripping mike’s hand as if he’s going to turn to dust beneath her fingertips. will is pretending to itch his eye as he wipes away tears. max and lucas speak in hushed tones, glancing around every few moments. steve just stares at the sidewalk.

billy’s palm bumps softly against the small of his back when he comes up beside him. “that’s the last of it.”

steve nods. dustin sniffs. “it’s time for me to get going, then.”

and billy just... feels it. like a fucking punch to his sternum, splintering his bones to pieces, tearing through his flesh. he’s driving up to see steve in literally six days, and they’re probably going to talk on the phone tonight, but billy just wants to  _grab_ and  _hold on._ he wants to stick steve harrington to his side and cart them around together. someone get him a fucking glue stick.  _paste_ them into one.

“sounds like it.” he said instead, tracing a circle on the back of steve’s elbow. steve drummed his fingers on billy’s knee in response, quick and concealed.

it’s a sort of signal they’ve constructed. the circle forms an O, standing for  _okay?_ drumming on the hand meant no, and the knee meant yes. a quick check-in for places where they might not be able to speak. something for the two of them.

billy stepped back as steve said goodbye to his children. there were too many quiet,  _“i’ll be back in summer”_ s and  _“i’m bringing my walkie, you can use cerebro”_ s. the ebbing of tears. the promises to call if any of them needed him. billy could hear his voice tremble as it refused to crack. steve ruffled dustin’s hair and swiped away a tear.

he turned to billy.

god, this fucking hurt.

“i’ll see you on friday, right?” billy murmured, shoving his fists in the pockets of his jeans.

steve nodded. his dark eyes seemed glazed. whispers of tears pulled at his pupils. “yeah, hargrove, i’ll see you friday.”

billy stares at him, long and slow and dizzying, and steve drags him into an embrace.

“jerk.” billy mumbles against his jaw, smiling a little.

steve chuckles, breath fanning across billy’s curls. “brute.”

and something strange releases, a great breath out, as if the very earth beneath their feet began a colossal exhale. and maybe it still sucks, a bit, that billy has to survive without steve harrington four days out of seven. but maybe it will make the three richer. brighter.

steve gets in his car, calls out a ringing, “peace out, losers!” to the gang of them, and drives away.

billy watches the car go until he’s staring at an empty street. but he’s still smiling, just a little.

max elbows him. he’d forgotten she was there.

“you so love him.” she chuckles a little. “it’s damn obvious, billy.”

he half-snorts, half-laughs. “i do not love him, maxine.” he mumbled.

and he doesn’t.

he would’ve, but he doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> billy is sooooooooo in denial  
> anyway  
> love you!!  
> <333


	3. raiders of the lost ark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys make mac and cheese and watch movies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning billy wears his hair in a bun with a polka-dotted scrunchie this chap  
> tee hee  
> enjoy!!  
> <333

iii.

steve harrington was the weirdest little shit that billy ever had the pleasure of knowing.

he was visiting the college again, sometime in the middle of september. the air had begun to crispen with chill, and the smell of dead leaves and fall fruits carried across the breezes with a little dance. kind and quiet.

billy was sprawled across the plush, new sectional in steve’s apartment, watching a vhs of raiders of the lost ark, with steve’s head on his thighs and steve’s hair between his fingers. threading it through and through, brushing it with his hands. soft. fucking fabergé organics. he doesn’t have it all done up today—it hangs in little waves around his face, all loose and delicate and young. billy thinks he might like it a little better than usual.

“this movie is shit.” steve slurred tiredly, drawing little shapes on the knee of billy’s jeans.

“you wanna change it?”

“...no.”

“then you can’t complain.”

steve snorted. “i’m gonna kick your ass.” he huffed, pinching billy’s thigh.

billy tugged on his hair. “i’d like to see you try, pretty boy.”

“don’t pull my hair, you perv.” steve giggled, batting billy’s hand away like a distracted cat.

“you love it.” billy laughed.

and something quiet yanks between them, a string that’s vibrating with the force of being pulled taut. billy looks down at the same moment that steve looks up. and they both sort of just... stare. billy tumbles headfirst into steve fucking harrington. ass over feet.

his lips part. “steve,”

“do you want to make dinner?”

billy blinked.

“what?”

steve sits up, pausing the movie and raking a hand through his loose hair. “dinner. i’m getting hungry.”

he nods once, and then again, wiping his palms on his jeans. “yeah, sure. course.” something about his lungs feel tight. as if they’ve been overused. filled to overflowing with sand.

he migrated distractedly to the kitchen. grabbed a pan. steve hiked himself onto the counter and sat with him quietly. and, yeah, maybe billy loved that he was very possibly the one and only person to ever see steve harrington be quiet. but all that he wanted right now was to  _ speak. _

he wanted to get steve’s glittery eyes out of his head.

“what’s wrong, man?”

steve’s voice drilled into his brain, breaking him from his thoughtless reverie. billy put the pot under the faucet and began to fill it.

“what are you on about, pretty boy?” he chuckled, shaking his head.

he could feel the shrug. it practically emanated from steve’s direction. “i don’t know, you’re acting strange.”

he set the oven on high and placed the pot on it. tied his hair up with the scrunchie max had given him. white, with little yellow polka dots.

“i don’t know, i guess i’m in a weird mood.” billy shrugged unconcernedly and leaned against the island. “it’s not that unusual.”

steve picked at his nails, and billy clicked his tongue. “i don’t know, you’ve been a little off lately. not just today,” he adds quickly when billy’s mouth opens to object. “the last few times you visited.”

_ you’re in love with steve. _

he isn’t. he just isn’t. love is fake.

“i miss you, jerk.” billy chuckled fondly, shrugging with his hands in his pockets. a stray curl falls loose from his bun and brushes against the nape of his neck. “i’m always happy to visit you, but it makes it a little harder to leave each time.”  _ and that doesn’t mean that i love you, so don’t start getting ideas in that pretty head of yours. _

steve sort of blinks, and he sort of frown-smiles, mouth turning down but eyes crinkling with amusement and emotion. he stares back into billy’s azure eyes for a gravity-bending moment, until the colors of the world start to blur together. and then he chuckles gently. “pretty sappy, hargrove.”

billy just shrugs and bounces over to the pantry, grabbing a box of mac and cheese from the shelf and sticking his tongue out over his shoulder. “the one time i open up.”

and steve laughs, and it’s loud and clear and gorgeous, and billy’s lungs do that dizzying _tightening_ again, closing and aching and he’s  not in love but god,  _god._ he sees heaven when steve laughs.

so they make mac and cheese. it’s quiet. domestic. and they eat it while finishing raiders of the lost ark, and even though steve complains through the whole rest of the movie he’s still star struck by the end, staring at the rolling credits like he can’t quite get a grip on what he just watched. billy couldn’t tell him, either—he was watching steve. just as quietly. just as domestically. he watched steve.

billy itched one of the scars on his chest and stretched tiredly. “please tell me it’s bed time.”

steve snaps out of the harrison ford fan club brewing between his ears and yawns. “yes.” he nods. “definitely.”

billy kicked at steve’s thigh gently, nudging him off the couch. “get to bed, princess.” 

steve gave him a weird look. “aren’t you coming?”

he thinks about sleeping next to steve. they’ve done it before—almost every time billy stays the night. it’s almost casual. two best friends, sharing a mattress.

he thinks about getting the best night’s sleep of his life beside steve harrington, the fucker. he thinks about falling into bed and stumbling to rem sleep quicker than he ever has before. he thinks about steve’s soft breaths into the coppery darkness of night, lulling him into peace.

he is not in love with steve.

“no,” billy smiled gently. “i’m gonna take the couch tonight.”

harrington gives him a long look, analyzing him, studying him. like he wants to put billy under a microscope.

then he nods. “okay.” steve ruffles his own hair, and then billy’s. “see you in the morning, tiger.”

“goodnight,” billy smiled softly, pushed steve’s hands from his curls. “tiger.” he murmured.

steve was already partway to his room. but he turned when billy spoke, delicate smile dancing on his mouth. his eyes twinkled.

“you’re a clown, hargrove.” he whispered through the hallway.

billy smiled at him; soft and sweet and unusually intimate. “go to bed, harrington.” he whispered back.

steve opened his mouth as if to say something. shut it. smiled with a little wave, a quiet goodnight, and walked into his room. billy leaned back on the couch.

_ it’s damn obvious, billy._

he is not in love with steve harrington.

he is not in love with steve harrington.

he shuts his eyes.

_ i am not in love with steve harrington. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCRUNCHIE BILLY  
> i love y’all  
> <333


	4. the way we move together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> billy and steve fall into bed together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is smut. pure smut, it’s also the first ive ever posted. if you don’t like, don’t read?? idk ahh  
> love you!!  
> enjoy!!

iv.

the first time they hooked up, billy fell into steve’s bed. sort of.

steve was back for christmas. his parents were not. which meant that billy was going to be at steve’s house all week.

“call me if he starts acting up.” billy demanded, pointing a finger at max.

max rolled her eyes. neil had let up on billy since the mindflayer/starcourt debacle, not that he knew it as anything other than a freak car accident. he was still an ass, and he still verbally tore billy apart as often as he could get away with, but when billy came and went... how long he stayed away for... neil couldn’t care less about it. that didn’t mean billy was above thinking he would take his anger out on  _ something. _

“i’m not going to disturb you and your  _ lover.”_ she snorted.

a pause. and then: “he’s not my lover.” billy huffed.

max cocked a fiery brow. “you hesitated.”

“no i didn’t.”

“yes, you did.”

“shut it, twerp.” he messed up her hair with a large hand and leaned against the open door of the camaro. “you swear you’ll call me?”

she rolled her eyes again, but it was fond. “yes, i will call you if he kills me.” she teased.

billy shook his head, exasperated, but he knew she really would. maybe they had both sort of tried to kill each other at one point, but it was different now. they were brother and sister.  _ real _ brother and sister. and... maybe love can be real for max. because it’s dangerous, and it will get him hurt, but brothers and sisters have to love each other. it’s in the rule book.

so. whatever. love isn’t so fake. but billy will never believe in being  _ in love. _too fatal.

he gave her hair one last ruffle, until she batted his hand away with a scrunched nose, and then climbed in the camaro and set off.

steve’s house was across town, but it wasn’t a long drive. hawkins was too small for any  _ long drives. _he lets his mind wander off until he’s surrounded by mansions with attached garages and full-yard fences. pulls into the harrington’s driveway; looks up and sees the the yellow lamplight shining from steve’s bedroom window.

billy sweeps out of the camaro and grins.  _ a whole week with steve. _

“harrington!” he calls, stepping into the foyer and toeing off his shoes. his voice echoes around an empty house. “steve!”

“i’m in the shower, be out in a second.” steve’s words reverberate to billy from the bathroom, and he shrugs and heads up the stairs, starting for steve’s room. the icy, statuesque portraits of the harrington family taunt him from their spots on the wall. the only bright spot is steve, and even his smile diminishes as the years continue.

steve’s room isn’t as personal as it once was, mostly because all that personality has transferred up to terre haute. the checkered walls are bare of pictures, string lights, and band posters. his bed is too neat. his desk is bare.

still, billy sprawls across the mattress, one arm behind his head and the other thrown across his stomach, and just shuts his eyes. contemplates the lack of steve’s energy in the room compared to the apartment. he ends up blinking at the ceiling, wiggling his toes in his socks for something to do.

a snort pulls him out of his thoughts. “hello, hargrove.” steve says from the doorway. billy smirks at the spinning fan. “what are you doing in here?”

the sound of feet padding across hardwood fills the room. “i didn’t feel like waiting downstairs.” billy looks over. “thought i’d—“

steve harrington is in a towel.

constellations of water dot across his smooth, pale chest, trailing rivulets down his torso. freckles decorate his skin like paint splatters. the towel sits low, exposing the v of his hips and hollow of his hipbones, and a scar across his stomach. his shoulders are broad, arms sprinkled with water drops, and the swell of his trapezius rolls smoothly in the yellow lamplight. hair hangs limply around his angular face.

and billy is fucking  _ staring.  _

steve stares back, confused and a little freaked out. “you thought you’d...?”

billy can’t speak. his tongue is cotton. his throat is sand.

the walkie crackles to life and dustin’s high voice filters through it. “mother harrington, do you copy? over.”

steve looks away from billy to cross the room and click the walkie on. “what’s up, henderson?”

“say over when you’re over.” dustin demands.

billy is still staring.

steve nearly growls. “what could you possibly want?  _ over_ _._ ”

“are you busy?”

“yes, i’m with billy.”

he watches the swell and slide of steve’s freckled back as he speaks. his mind is blank.

“ick, gross.” dustin’s voice grows a little petulant. “you’re so married.”

“we are not.” steve chuckles, slightly choked, slightly breaking. “i’ll hang out with you next week, kid.”

“okay, see you then. over.” dustin clicks off, and steve turns back. back to billy. billy and his and utterly empty brain.

steve’s dark brows draw together. “what’s wrong?” he asks, quiet and shy.

“i—“

_ am not in love with steve harrington. _

he blinks. stands up.

“you’re fucking hot, princess.”

_ whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhat _

it’s steve’s turn to stare, apparently. “billy!” he breathes, a little exasperated, a little incredulous.

and he’s not in love with steve harrington, because he  _ can’t be _ in love with steve harrington, but—

his voice goes low and even. the apotheosis of genuine. “i’m not joking.” billy breathed.

steve stares.

and then he sort of fucking  _ attacks. _

billy’s face is between his palms, billy’s body is pressed to his chest, and billy’s mouth is attached to his lips.

steve harrington kisses like billy is about to turn to stardust in his hands. he holds on, steadfast and severe, and a soft sound escapes from the back of his throat when billy’s hands latch onto his sides. a mewl of relief.

buttons pop, and billy’s shirt is torn off his body. tossed across the room distractedly as steve touches, touches, touches him, palms skidding over his bare torso, nails dragging behind, over flesh and scar tissue and muscle. billy thinks of being insecure about the scarred starbursts that adorn him, and then he remembers that it’s steve, and he can’t care anymore. because steve touches without hesitation, with wild abandon thrumming beneath the skin of his fingertips, with his tongue in billy’s mouth.

steve’s tongue is in billy’s mouth.

he pushes billy back, back, until his knees hit the edge of the mattress and they both go down into a giggling, messy heap of limbs, mouths attached and bodies entangled. so, yeah. billy sort of literally fell into bed with steve harrington.

“billy,” steve pants against his jugular and lights up his whole body. he needs steve. “can i?” a hand hovers over his zipper.

_ you can do whatever you want to me. _

“yes.” billy gasped, head falling back onto the duvet as steve tears off his skintight jeans with a little giggle. the wet glide of his tongue skids across billy’s skin, just above the waistband of his underwear, and his whole body jerks. then they’re gone too.

billy looks down to where steve stares at him. his eyelashes seem long enough to brush his cheeks. his pupils are dark, and he licks his lips.

billy tugs him away. “not now.” he pants into steve’s mouth, pulling off the towel he was still wrapped in. his skin sings and whistles where it touches steve’s.

and maybe steve pouts, a little, but then he kisses along billy’s face with impeccable dedication, palm slipping across his sweat-damp chest. “tell me what you want. i want to hear it.”

billy tears and grabs at his shoulders. “need you.” he gasps into steve’s neck.

and steve stills, grinds down once to leave billy shaking, and growls: “how?”

billy goes red from his chest to his hairline. “need you inside me, fuck.” he gasps. “please.”

one of steve’s hands dart out, a clatter ringing through the symphony of heaving breaths as he grapples through his drawer. billy doesn’t ask why he has lube beside his bed, but his stomach heats until it’s scalding.

the click of a cap. another kiss. billy has never done this before. he doesn’t want to know if steve has.

and it’s cold, and it feels fucking weird, but when steve looks down at him to make sure he’s okay, billy begs him to go on. his heart kicks to life somewhere in his throat as steve’s finger moves within him, twisting and curling and stretching. billy moans when a second one joins it, spine arching and hands scrabbling at steve’s back. he hopes he leaves scratch lines. steve kisses the back of his thigh, and billy realizes dumbly that he’s never been this hard in his life. that he could come just from this.

and then a third finger pushes up into him and billy chokes down the scream that swirls in his throat. his hands find purchase in steve’s hair, still damp from his shower, knees falling apart. his cock aches for release. his nerve endings buzz and spark.

and steve’s fingers twist, push up, up, up until billy can almost feel it in his stomach. they press  _ down. _billy can’t hold back the scream. like a button that steve has miraculously created, his fingertips brush against that spot and billy pours out noises for him, dragged from his trachea with fishhooks.

“steve!” he cries out, tugging desperately on his hair. “fuck me, steve, please.”

“okay, baby,” steve purrs softly, pulling his hand out. billy whines. “i’ve got you.” he rolls on a condom. pumps himself with lube. lines up.

billy presses a hand to his chest. “wait.”

steve stills, dutiful and respecting.

“can i...” he trails off, voice failing. “i want to...”

steve looks at him, soft and hungry. they shouldn’t work together, but they do on him.

billy thinks of the confidence he had checking steve out in the showers, a thousand years ago. dregs it back up from the depths of him.

he sits up. “i want to ride you.”

steve beams.

_ you do not love him. _

he lies down and pulls billy on top of him, until he straddles steve’s hips with his hands planted flat on his chest. steve is hard against him, pressing up, and when billy grinds down, steve’s mouth falls open. it’s the most beautiful thing billy has ever seen.

he reaches between them. grabs steve in his hand, and lines him up. jesus, he’s huge. is he even going to fit?

and billy’s  _ scared._ he wants this more than anything he’s ever wanted in his life and he’s so unbelievably terrified. steve is going to be  _ inside him. _it’s different now. it’s different to be the one that opens for the other. to be the vulnerable one.

steve’s hands stroke his sides, soft and warm, and his midnight eyes find billy’s through the haze of lust and nerves in the air and hold on tight. anchor him in the wind. billy leans over to kiss him.

he sinks down.

something explodes behind his eyes.

he has to go slow, so he doesn’t split himself in half even though he almost wants to. steve’s mouth hangs open, brows drawn together, and he focuses on the crease that forms between them to keep himself in control. he wants to fuck himself open. but he also wants to walk tomorrow. 

when steve bottoms out, billy is sitting on his thighs, and the groans that bleed from them are equally long and filthy. billy’s hands turn to fists on his chest. steve’s eyes open to meet his.

billy sits there, for a moment. lets himself be filled to the brim, and lets steve feel him. clenches around him experimentally and watches steve jerk, grinning wickedly. what is there but this? steve’s palms press tight against his waist and hold on.

on the first roll of his hips, billy is fit to burst. he has to hold his breath so he doesn’t come all over steve’s chest, cock practically throbbing between them. he’s going to fall to pieces.

“you’re fucking perfect.” steve whispers, sliding his hands over billy’s body.

he is not in love.

“you’re beautiful, you’re so perfect, you’re doing so well baby.” he breathes, eyes trained on his face. his dark gaze burns through billy’s skin. “so good for me, so good.”

billy moves again. and again. his jaw hangs open, chest heaving like the ocean, spine arcing. his hips roll in steve’s lap, pressing down. “fuck, steve.”

the colors of the world bleed together as billy moves, soaking like water in cotton. heat licks deliciously through him, and steve sits up to kiss his shoulder.

“billy, i’m not—“ steve chokes himself off when billy lifts up to slam back down. “billy, fuck, babe.”

“it’s okay.” he gasps, dragging steve up by the shoulders until their chests press together. “me neither.”

their bodies become one in a slow, shifting dance, skin sparking where it slides together, glittering with sweat. billy can taste his heart in his throat, pounding erratically as if a moment away from giving out. billy wouldn’t blame it. he tries to remember how they got here, where they are. tries to remember his name. but all that matters in steve. steve in front of him, steve inside of him. steve’s dark hair pasted to his alabaster brow like wet paper.

and then his hand moves between both of them and takes billy’s cock into his palm, and billy screams again. too much. steve’s fingers work him, wrist twisting, hand pumping until his pace turns sloppy and he has to look down into steve’s eyes. take in that gaze.

“do it.” steve says against billy’s lips. his stomach tries to curl in on itself with heat, and that spine-crackling edge is just within reach. billy can see it behind his eyes. “come for me, billy, you’re so beautiful.”

and he  _ breaks apart. _

colors explode beneath his squeezed eyelids, like bursts of rainbow smoke bombs just before his face. his body tries to shake apart as the orgasm tears harshly through him, cock twitching, painting stripes along steve’s chest. visceral. his hands have ended up in steve’s hair, somehow. gripping tight. his organs tie themselves into knots and undo them just as fast.

and just as billy stills, steve bucks his hips and gathers billy close, until billy’s brow rests on his collarbone. a shaking hand strokes short, fast lines on his neck, at the top of his spine, as steve comes. choked sounds in his throat vibrate against billy’s ear.

he’s not really sure how long they stay there, panting onto each other’s skin, with billy’s face pressed into steve’s neck. he can feel the ache now, the subtle stretch that he knows will give him a limp tomorrow. but how can he care? it’s steve.

billy doesn’t remember lying down, but when his eyes open, he’s on his back as steve cleans him softly. “so good for me.” he praises. “you did so well.”

he hums appreciatively. makes grabby hangs for steve, the twink. wants to never let go.

_ you are not in love. _

steve lands in his arms. huddled against him until every inch of skin that can touch, does.

_ why not? _

he strokes billy’s hair, murmuring indiscernible things to the strands as his ankle hooks between both of billy’s. steve harrington. his best friend. cuddly after sex, apparently. billy is too—for steve, anyway.

_ because we hurt people. _

he shuts his eyes again. lets his body rest in this bed, curled up like a child into steve’s chest. steve keeps whispering things he can’t hear.

he inhaled. let it all float away.

_ i am not in love. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you that it was smut you should’ve listened  
> anyway  
> ahhhhh i love you peace  
> !!  
> <333


	5. with every roll of my hips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> billy cries and steve worries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiii this is more smut  
> this one is a lot angsty-er bc billy is sad and coming to realizations that he don’t wanna  
> don’t like don’t read please!!  
> love y’all!!

v.

billy is going to fucking cry.

it’s not an activity he takes lightly, in all actuality. the only person who’d ever been able to  _ make _ him unwillingly cry was neil, in his rage fueled reigns of terror, when he’d spit slurs at billy and force the tears from his eyes with every  _ yes, sir. _and billy might be emotionally stunted, but he prides himself on crying when he needs to. he also prides himself on the ability to  _ not _ cry when he doesn’t  _ want _ to. to choke it back.

but something about today. about literally filling himself with steve harrington, body writhing and gripping steve’s hair in his fists, makes his throat tight. heat dances up his spine.

“so pretty,” steve murmurs in that low, sultry sex-voice. he pets the side of billy’s face, messing with the curls that hang into his face.

_ do not cry. _

he knows why he wants to. fucking  _ knows. _but he can’t face that. not today—not ever.

_ love isn’t real. _ he chants it each time he sinks down on steve. again, and again.  _ love isn’t real. love isn’t— _

“fuckin’ gorgeous, baby.” steve purred.

they’ve been doing this for two months, now. hooking up. they can be best friends who hook up. why not?

_ don’t fucking cry, billy. don’t. _

his body shakes in pleasure and desperation. he can’t cry while fucking steve harrington. he can’t cry with steve harrington within a mile of him.

he’s never been so filled as he is now, but a gaping hole tears through his solar plexus and yanks the breath from his lungs. widening with each shaky heartbeat. he’s breaking apart. splintering like faulty wood. he’s going to fall apart, right here, in the circle of his best friend’s arms.

he moves and rolls atop steve’s hips, staring down into his face with sweat dripping off his chest, and tries not to cry.

“billy,” steve whispers, grabbing his jaw in his hand. “look at me.”

he does. looks into steve’s beautiful face, from his kiss-swollen lips to his midnight eyes. traces the constellation of freckles with his gaze. lets out a choked whimper, and prays steve thinks it’s from the upwards roll of his hips.

steve leans forward to kiss him, sweet and soft and slow. “you’re so pretty, billy.” he says against his lower lip. his voice cracks with sincerity. “the prettiest—fuck.”

billy grinds down and tugs on steve’s hair to shut him up. he can’t listen to that now. can’t let steve’s words be painted onto his skin, sink between his ears—he won’t ever wash them out. they will just stay there, lovely and curling and fatal, eating away at him with every passing breath. choking him. slicing him open. too much.

heat curls in his stomach, rich with finality, and billy surges to crash his mouth onto steve’s, a whimper bleeding from the back of his throat. he wraps a hand around his cock, fast and rough.

steve grabs his hips. “slow down,” he soothes against billy’s lips, voice low.

he can’t. how is he supposed to? to still, to make it loving, to stare into steve harrington’s eyes and watch the care and beauty brewing there? he can’t. doesn’t. he  _ won’t _ slow down.

steve brackets his knees on either side of billy’s hips. grabs his shoulders. stops billy from moving entirely, dark eyes blazing, wet mouth parted as he stares. he lists forward slowly and drags his lips across billy’s.

“slow  _ down._” he says again, soft and demanding. steve rolled billy’s hips forward, just once, and kissed him again. “we have time,”

and billy just breaks apart.

he buries his face into steve’s neck and sobs, trying desperately to time them with the pace at which steve grinds him down. maybe he won’t notice that way. tears wet his cheeks as he kisses the freckle on steve’s jugular, over and over again. this is how a heart breaks. this is how a soul cracks in two.

it’s not a good cry. not the kind that leaves you feeling relieved and light. it’s not cathartic. it just tears at his skin and burns his eyes, until the hole in his chest begins whirling and whooshing with harsh intensity.

heat curls in his stomach as steve wraps a hand around him, a moan skimming across his tongue and tearing from his lips.

“there you go.” steve breathes as billy grinds down on him, slow and steady. his voice sounds choked, thick. “god, yes, baby.”

and he sees it, amidst the tears and strangled breaths; standing beside steve harrington all his life and into the next one. when he tries to push it away, it saturates tenfold, burning the space behind his eyelids. there, there, there, forever. it’s pretty.

it makes him cry a little more.

“billy,” steve says again, and billy knows by the tone of his voice that he’s noticed now. he strokes billy’s hair as they move together. “billy, why?” his voice breaks.

_ i am not in love with— _

_ i am not in lo— _

_ i am not. _

billy doesn’t answer. just rides steve until his orgasm rips painfully through him, shocking his nerve endings to life, grating his skin like sand paper. he scrapes at steve’s shoulders with his nails and relishes the way steve breaks apart inside him. they’re good, they’re so good. billy’s tears are salty on his lips, and he kisses the taste into steve’s mouth.

and then he rolls off, lying on his side and dragging the blanket up around his shoulder. steve lays down as well. silent. it’s different. they’re not touching, though they always do. they don’t laugh like usual, and steve doesn’t try to make them. strangers on opposite sides of a downy ocean. the heat from steve’s back radiates onto billy’s spine, and he just wants to  _ reach _ and  _ pull _ _close,_ to hold on too tightly. it’s too far a distance.

he waits until steve’s breaths are even, peppered with little snores that make his heart clench.

billy buries his face in a pillow that smells like steve harrington and cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually love this one bc GIVE BILLY FEELINGS 2k20  
> coolio and peachy keen  
> hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading!!  
> love you  
> <333


	6. the secret sound of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> billy comes to a realization, and talks to steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter!! thank you for keeping up with this story and coming this far  
> hope you enjoy loves!!

i.

“you’re going to kill him.”

billy looked down at will with wide eyes, lips parting in alarm.

“steve.” will barreled on, adamant as stone. “he loves you, and you love him, and you’re hurting both of you.”

he blinks.

“steve and i are just—“

“ _billy,” _ will gives him a look brewing with the sort of wisdom that no teenager should be allowed to have. “it’s not a secret that you and steve... do things.”

his rebuttal melts against his lips.  _ will the wise._ he knows, they all know. what use is it to lie?

he turns the camaro onto loch nora, starting across town for the byers’ home. “i’m not in love with him.”

will sort of huffs. “i know that you think love isn’t real—“

“i never said that.”

“billy.” his voice is high and severe. “i’m... the same.”

silence echoes through the space between them.

“i like—boys.” will tosses the words in his lap and waits. billy watches them.

he takes a breath in.

“okay.” billy says, soft and quiet. “it’s not going to be easy, will. but i know you can’t change it, and you shouldn’t feel like you have to. it’s 1985, how much longer can they keep us down?” he smiles, just a little. “just know i’ll kill anyone you want me to, and i love you.”

it slips out.

will smiles at the windshield. “i love you too, billy.”

he’s never...

he’s never. not even to max. he’d made himself promise he would never say that again. not when it messes everything up.

a horrible grinding feeling erupts in his stomach.

“is that the first time...?” will trails off, gnawing on his bottom lip and staring through the windshield.

billy nods tersely. hums a little  _ mmhmm._

they’re in front of the byers house by the time will speaks again.

“you should’ve saved it for steve.” he whispered, hand hovering over the door handle.

billy looked over. reached out, and ruffled will’s hair with a soft smile. “says who?” he chuckled.

will beamed at him, smile crinkling his eyes, and waved gently before bouncing out of the car and onto his front porch.

billy pulled out of the driveway.

_ you’re going to kill him. _

by the time he was on the road, the grinding feeling was back.

he sees steve three days later. he’s off. the grinding had elevated to _grating,_ tearing against the walls of his stomach. ripping him apart from the inside out.

steve knows. of course he knows. what doesn’t he know?

they’re lying in steve‘s bed, naked and warm, as steve cards his hands through billy’s messy curls. the apartment is silent around them.

“billy,” steve says against his temple, and even though it hurts, billy still loves the way he says his name.

billy grunts into his neck, sweet and quiet, but his heart clenches.

“what’s going on?” 

he lifts himself into his elbows to look down into steve’s face. study the celestial beauty. like the bright side of the moon.

he’s never lied to steve harrington before.

“nothing.”

of course steve knows when he is.

his entire being shuts down, the soft and blurry lines of him hardening into titanium. he works himself out of the cage of billy’s arms, keeping his head down, body taut and nearly vibrating with energy. billy watches him tug on his jeans, harshly, and then the fuzzy green sweater that he looks so good in. his mouth is drawn so tightly his lips are white, and splotches of angry red sit high up on his cheeks.

he’s—walled up. how he looks with his parents, and people he doesn’t trust. how billy imagines he himself must look, every damn day.

but they were never supposed to be like that with each other.

steve paces around the room, three times. billy tugs on his boxers and a stray t-shirt; it’s steve’s. abba. he and his tacky pop music.

he finally stops in front of the bed. looks straight into billy’s face, eyes watery and hard, and squeezes the footboard so tightly his knuckles go pale.

steve takes a big breath. “you’re ending it, right?”

the words slap billy across the face.

he almost laughs. 

“i’m  _ what_?”

steve doesn’t appreciate his evident amusement, apparently. his clicks his tongue with an exasperated huff.

“ _ us.”  _ he snapped. “our..” a dramatic gesture between the two of them. “arrangement, or whatever the fuck.”

billy makes a face at him. “why the hell would i—“

“i know you don’t love me, and that’s okay.” steve blurts. his voice cracks on  _ okay_. “really, i promise, i get it. and i know it must be really weird to fuck someone who’s in love with you when you... you don’t feel the same.” a tear slides down his cheek. “if you’re gonna end it, please just rip the bandaid off.”

steve loves billy.

steve  _ loves _ billy.

steve doesn’t think billy loves him.

he stands up. stares into steve’s face, brows drawing tightly together, tears misting his eyes as steve swipes harshly at his own wet cheeks.

and how could he not...  _ how could he not? _when steve accepted him after a lifetime of harshness and bruises, when he took billy into his arms and loved him so gently, so delicately. when he was his best friend, and his favorite person, and his soulmate, all rolled into one. when he was soft, and he dedicated the time to help heal, to build him back up from nothing. steve harrington was the kindest, bravest person billy had ever known in his life. how can he not? how can he not be in love with him?

he’s so, so in love with him.

steve is still staring at him, waiting for an answer, waiting for the yank of the bandage and the pain which follows. his eyes twinkle with diamond tears.

and billy feels his heart break in half.

“you think i don’t love you?” he laughs wetly, harshly. smiles a little, and then frowns.

_ he thinks i don’t love him. _

shakes his head.

“steve harrington, i have loved you for so long.”

it escapes him on a desperate exhale, pent up in his lungs for so long it had banged against his ribs to be free. and now  _ it is,_ floating in the air, and he can’t take it back but he doesn’t want to. never wants to again. he  _ loves _ steve harrington, because love is  _ real_, and who the  _ fuck _ cares?

a tear on steve’s cheek mirrors the one on billy’s.

“you love me?” steve’s voice shakes, and his teeth tear into his bottom lip exquisitely.

billy nods. “i am in love with every facet of you.” he says. “i’m so in love with you, it’s stupid. and it has been ripping me apart for years now.”

he extends a hand. palm up. ready for the taking.

his voice breaks. “i want to be whole again.”

even the atoms hold their minuscule breaths.

steve’s palm is silk against billy’s.

he’s not sure how long they stand their, holding hands in the middle of the room, staring at each other. he just knows it’s okay. and that night, when they go to bed without dinner, wrapped in each other’s arms, and steve cries into his shoulder, he knows it’s okay. that it’s going to _stay_ okay, no matter how scared they are. terrified. billy spent his whole life denying love and it’s existence in a desperate attempt for self-preservation. steve harrington arrived and had turned the world upside down in one year. but that’s okay. it’s all okay.

he’d thought love wasn’t real. thought it was mother nature’s ploy and hallmark’s commercial tool. thought that it could do nothing but tear him in smaller and smaller halves until he can’t rip anymore.

he never thought it might tape him back together.

he loves steve harrington; irrefutably, inconceivably. impossibly. it surrounds him and bleeds life into his veins. they are two parts of one whole.

so he holds steve against his chest, kissing him, loving him, until the tears dry on steve’s face and his collarbone and their breaths match in a slow symphony. lets the words escape from his chest, even as he sleeps and doesn’t have to dream of steve staying in his arms.

billy is in love with steve harrington, because love is no evolutionary trap, and he has discovered a universe of whims bigger than his own.

he’s in love with steve harrington.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <333


End file.
